


can you make it alright?

by orphan_account



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 12:43:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13613622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jon knows, objectively, that compelling Tim isn’t likely to improve his opinions of Jon any. He has to admit that it’s tempting anyway, because he doesn’t know how to fix things even now that he’s back, and Tim isn’t giving him anything to work with, and it just—It would be simpler. But it would also almost certainly be several steps backwards in terms of making Tim trust him again, which is exactly the opposite of what he’d be trying to achieve in the first place and kind of undermines the ‘it would be simpler’ part.





	can you make it alright?

Jon knows, objectively, that compelling Tim isn’t likely to improve his opinions of Jon any. He has to admit that it’s tempting anyway, because he doesn’t know how to fix things even now that he’s back, and Tim isn’t giving him anything to work with, and it just—

It would be simpler. But it would also almost certainly be several steps backwards in terms of making Tim trust him again, which is exactly the opposite of what he’d be trying to achieve in the first place and kind of undermines the ‘it would be simpler’ part. He doesn’t exactly have the hang of _not_ compelling someone when he wants answers, either, considering that he can still barely tell when he is or isn’t doing it. So he just— he can’t ask Tim, not if he doesn’t want to mess this up even further.

In the end he ends up going to Martin, catching him by the sleeve in a corner of the Archive and asking, “You and Tim, are you— you two seem to get on.” He makes it a statement, not a question. Those are generally safe enough.

Martin blinks at him. “I mean… sort of? Why do you ask?”

Jon looks away, concentrating very hard on the thought of not compelling Martin to action as he says, “I was… I wondered if you could ask him what would— what he thinks I ought to do to make things… better between him and me.”

It sounds ridiculous even as he’s asking it, and that’s not helped much by Martin immediately asking, “Why are you asking _me_? I mean, it’s not really… wouldn’t it make more sense to ask him yourself?”

“I can’t ask him, Martin.”

“Why _not_ — oh.”

Jon nods sharply when Martin grasps it, the better to avoid looking at the half-nervous half-pitying look he gets from him every time Martin realizes that whatever awkward stumbling over his words is occurring is because he’s trying to avoid compelling them rather than just out of social awkwardness.

“I’ll… yeah, Jon,” Martin says then, “I’ll ask him. I can’t guarantee an answer, but—”

“But that’s the reason I’m not the one asking,” Jon cuts him off, then mutters out an awkward thanks and leaves before he can start feeling any worse about all of this.

* * *

 

_(—click._

_“Why are_ **_you_ ** _asking? What, was Jon too afraid to face me?”_

_“No, he just— he didn’t want— he wanted it to be up to you. Whether you answered him.”_

_“What do you— oh. Dammit.”_

_“What… what should I tell him?”_

_Silence._

_“Tim?”_

_“Just… just forget about it. I’ll talk to him.”_

_Click—)_

* * *

Jon is in his office working when Tim enters and shuts the door behind him. He doesn’t slam it, which is— it might be a good sign, Jon tells himself.

“You sent Martin to speak to me.” It’s not a question.

Jon nods, forcing himself to look at Tim’s face - he looks tired, mostly, but Tim always looks tired these days and it doesn’t seem to mean much about whether he’s angry or not - and pushing his glasses up his nose in a nervous gesture. “I… I didn’t think you’d take kindly to having the answer dragged out of you.”

“Yeah.”

Tim’s voice is sharp and flat, and Jon can’t tell whether it’s an agreement that he wouldn’t have wanted to be compelled or just an acknowledgment that Jon spoke. He watches Tim pace the office like a caged animal and waits for more, shifting awkwardly in his chair because he wants to prompt _something_ , anything.

“I don’t know,” Tim says eventually, and he sounds so exhausted that Jon’s chest aches with it. “I don’t know, okay? Just— just go ahead and use your weird monster powers if you want an answer so badly, because I don’t fucking _know_.”

(Jon tries not to cringe at the phrasing, thinking of Daisy, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t succeed)

“Is that… actually an invitation?” Jon asks, hesitant. “I don’t— I want to make it better, not worse.”

Tim sighs and collapses into the chair on the other side of Jon’s desk, throwing his hands up in a vague shrug as he does.

“Don't think you can make it worse. Go on, if you’re going to.”

That hurts too, but Jon’s reasonably certain he deserves it all at this point. He ends up nodding jerkily, and then steels himself and asks, “How do I fix things with you?”

“You can’t,” Tim answers immediately, and then carries on past Jon’s sharp inhale, “Not if ‘fixing it’ means going back to how things were before all of this. We’re past that.”

It’s not saying that things can’t be better than they are now, at least, which is better than Jon had necessarily expected.

“And.” He pauses, not sure if this is pushing his luck. “And what do I have to do for you to forgive me?”

Tim lets out a shuddering breath, hand going to his mouth like he’s going to cover it to try to stop himself from answering, and then, quietly, he says, “I already do.”

“I— what?”

He’s louder this time, some of the anger spilling back into his voice. “I already forgive you, okay? You— this place fucks with all of us, and for you it just happened to do that by making you a paranoid stalker. Whatever. It’s done. I just—” He cuts himself off, looking frustrated.

Jon stares across at him, willing himself not to prompt and drag more out of Tim, and eventually Tim tosses his head and mutters, “I’m not mad at you, not anymore. I’m mad at myself, and I hate this place, and I hate being _trapped_ here while something _watches_ us like we’re animals in a cage, but it’s not _you_.”

Jon exhales slowly, leaning back in his chair, and lifts his head to stare up at the ceiling.

He feels like that ought to be answered with something equally transparent, and in the end he settles on, “I miss you.”

“...yeah,” Tim says, and Jon still can’t tell whether it’s an agreement or just an acknowledgement, but he focuses on the fact that it’s _something_.

**Author's Note:**

> there may or may not end up being more of this (and a shift to actual jon/tim) in the future; there's more in my doc, but i can't tell if i like it enough to finish/post it without some furious rewrites. we'll see!


End file.
